


scratchin' the surface

by civillove



Series: plans wrapped in rubber bands [17]
Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: F/M, Protective Beth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-02
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-04-06 14:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19064605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/civillove/pseuds/civillove
Summary: Prompt from anon: Beth protecting/helping Rio + medievalraven requesting: Loving the ‘Rubber Bands’ series! For a prompt how about Beth absolutely crushes a drop/meeting/etc and it really impresses Rio? Bonus points for feelings (both real and of the mature variety).--“Mrs. Boland.” Veto smiles, his voice is attractively raspy as if he’s on the cusp of smoking too many cigars in his life, “What you’ve done with the dealership is smart; I’ve seen your advertisements on TV.”“Oh,” She’s unsure of what to say for a moment because she hadn’t pictured the conversation swinging this way at all. With a woman like Carlita working for him, she just expected that this meeting would be slightly less chaotic than the last.





	scratchin' the surface

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to everyone who's following this train to the station; still have no idea what our destination is, but I'm glad we're enjoying the ride ;) thanks to everyone who's given this series a chance and leaves me kudos / reviews!

They’re technically no good at this point and yet she can’t seem to part with them.

Beth scrunches her nose at a batch of strawberries that she _swears_ she just bought, and yet, she’s staring at the container and there are a few moldy spots on some. It’s white and fuzzy and reminds her too much of bunny fur and a shiver courses down her spine as her fingers jerk at the prospect of throwing the whole thing away. Aren’t a few salvageable? She really wanted to make strawberry shortcake.

“Those are a loss cause.”

She looks up at Rio, who’s leaning his elbows onto her counter. There’s a soft, amused smirk tugging at the ends of his mouth as he looks at the strawberries before glancing up at her. Sometimes she’s overwhelmed how easily handsome he is, the lines of his face, the scruff on his jawline, his bird on tan skin—

Beth blinks, shaking herself as she raises her eyebrows. Challenge accepted. “Don’t worry about my strawberries.”

A soft laugh leaves Rio’s lips and dips right into her belly, reaches in and _squeezes._ “Why you gotta be so stubborn, ma, you know those aren’t the last in Detroit, right?”

“You like me stubborn.” She throws back, half talking to him but mostly to herself as she turns around and grabs a cutting board.

“I do,” He agrees, folding his hands together on the counter. “When you’re not tryin’ to save moldy strawberries.”

Beth stops herself from doing something extremely childish like stick her tongue out at him before grabbing a knife. She sets up a station in front of her to hopefully cut some mold off of a few strawberries that she can save and toss the rest. In the back of her mind she remembers the conversation about a rotten egg, can still hear Rio try to advise her that until it’s taken care of it ruins everything around it. She really hopes it’s not the same with this fruit as she pops the plastic lid open.

“Are you here for another reason other than to judge the fruit in my house?” She sifts through a few strawberries, picking one that isn’t moldy at all before cutting the stem off. Beth brushes it aside, taking another as Rio reaches in the container.

“Veto’s makin’ moves.” He inspects a strawberry before biting into it.

“What does that even mean?” She asks and looks up, eyes instantly tracing the action of juice slipping down the side of his hand and along his chin. She swallows when he licks his lips and of course he notices her gaze, as he usually does, a small smile tugging the ends of his mouth.

She feels her cheeks tint pink and clears her throat, pointing at him. “So let me get this straight, you’re going to harass me about these strawberries but then eat the only decent ones I have?”

Rio smirks, throwing the stem into her pile before wiping his hands off on a paper towel. “It means that we got another meeting tonight.” He says, addressing her earlier question.

Another meeting; she sighs and takes another strawberry, cutting the stem off before slicing it in half. She can’t help but feel a little unsure about another meeting that has to do with Veto, even though she’s sure that the probability of it ending like last time is low. Beth can still feel the cold metal of a gun slide against her neck, parting her hair.

“She won’t be there this time.” Rio says, reading her thoughts, peeling layers back. “She knows better than that.”

She wants to ask _how_ he knows but that would require her to break the glass between Rio’s present and past and she’s not sure she wants to do that. As curious as she is about Carlita, she doesn’t want to dig that up. She doesn’t want to know about the threadwork that once tied them together and she doesn’t want to know about how those strings were cut.

Beth takes another strawberry out of the container and gives it a once over, a soft nose scrunch as she considers how to cut the mold off. There’s not a lot, just a small patch of white near the bottom, and holds the fruit at an angle to cut a clean line.

“I don’t trust her.”

Rio lets out a short laugh, rolling the sleeves of his navy-blue Henley up over his elbows. “Yeah, that’s a smart choice; she’s a little crazier than a bag of cats.” He runs a hand over the lower half of his face, watching her knife work. “This meeting should be easy, an actual face to face with Veto and hammerin’ out our deal.”

Easy, Beth nearly holds her breath, sounds too good to be true. They’ve had some decent deals in the past but she also knows how _bad_ meetings can go—and judging from how this whole thing started? she doesn’t have much confidence in tonight going any better.

“Time?”

“Ten.” Rio licks his lips, stretching his back a little before straightening his shoulders and picks up the recipe for strawberry shortcake that she has sat to the side.

_Not to sound like an old woman, but ten sounds so late when you’re not getting enough sleep._ But she’s not about to tell Rio that; one complaint and he’ll go without her.  

Beth rubs the side of her neck before cutting into another strawberry, trying to not let her mind wander from the task at hand. She’s still not sleeping as well as she used to even though telling Rio about her nightmares has helped. The weight on her isn’t as heavy now that she’s sharing it with someone else but there are darker thoughts that are hard to get rid of. Those aren’t as easy to tell Rio about even though she’s sure he’d understand, somehow, because they’re alike more than they realize. For some reason she’s almost…embarrassed about her transformation, about learning, because it’s so different than how she was before and that she’ll never be the same again.

That she’s somehow _tainted_ by everything she’s been through, everything she’s done.

Those memories have clawed their way into her chest, heavy enough to sometimes push her through her mattress and in-between the floorboards. At night it’s almost impossible; at least during the day she can forget for the most part. Though sometimes the memories sit right along the edges of her mind, waiting for her to let her guard down—

Beth lets out a sharp noise as she slices along her index finger, dropping the knife on the cutting board before strawberry pieces clutter to the floor. Rio rounds the counter, grabbing a tea towel in one hand as his other cups against her knuckles.

She instantly tries to pull back from him and he tightens his touch, thumb pressing along her lifeline. “Easy, lemme see.”

“So stupid.” She mumbles mostly to herself as Rio splays her fingers a little against his palm.

“Don’t think I’ll be teachin’ you how to throw a knife any time soon,” He’s teasing, voice soft and intimate, can feel his breath against his skin. “It’s not too deep, think you’ll live.”

He pulls a paper towel near the sink and wets it with cool water, not hesitant as he begins to clean the cut on her finger. She winces, yanking her hand back a little in a knee-jerk reaction when he presses too hard.

“Sorry.” He mumbles, pausing to press a kiss against her knuckles. His lips are smooth, the briefest brush of warmth that reaches deep into her stomach and squeezes, curling lower to lick heat between her legs.

Rio pulls back so he can see what he’s doing, throwing away the bloody paper towel and grabs a dry one to press against her finger to stop the bleeding. He looks up at her, eyes tracing over her face before his other hand brushes her hair over her shoulder.

“Still not sleepin’ well?”

Beth smiles gently at his concern, looking down at their hands a moment before she speaks, “My expertise knife skills give me away?”

A soft smile decorates his handsome face before he runs his thumb along her finger, pulling the paper towel back to inspect her cut. It’s not bleeding so much anymore, the skin just angry and irritated. Maybe she should just give up on the strawberry shortcake—most of the fruit is on the floor and not salvageable anymore anyways.

“Same dream?” He drops her hand, leaning down to scoop up strawberries to put into the trash.

Beth nods and watches him a moment, taking a strawberry out of the container to bite into it. This is a better choice instead of actually trying to make anything—some baking adventures just aren’t meant to be.

“Yeah, it’s been getting better but sometimes I don’t make it out of the mud and I…can still feel it in my throat when I wake up.” She pauses a moment to purposefully swallow, Rio sticking his hands into his pockets as he leans back against the counter.

His face is open, gaze encouraging her to continue, actively listening as she describes how terrible her nightmares are when she’s in the clutches of them. It almost throws her off guard every time this happens, because while Dean looked at her when she talked, he never actually _listened_ to her. Rio gives his full attention, body angled in her direction, eyes almost burrowing under her skin and between her ribcage.

“I’m just somehow wired and exhausted all at the same time.”

Rio nods his head, drawing his lower lip into his mouth a moment before he leans up off the counter. He reaches for her, taking her hand, his fingers gently tracing the rough slice along her finger.

“How long you think this’ll take to heal?” He asks as she watches him, unsure of where he’s going with this.

She thinks about it a few moments, knowing it’ll take some time because it’s not like she can  stop using her hand completely to let it properly scab over. “A while…I use my hands a lot, like anyone, the cut will probably rip open a couple times.”

And oh, of course, that makes sense now as he slowly nods, “It’s like anythin’ else; an open wound, the weight of a gun…” Rio squeezes the tips of her fingers before letting her hand fall from his grasp, “You get used to livin’ with ghosts.”

Is that all this is? Getting used to it? She wants to recoil from the idea—because that can’t be her, that can’t be how she handles this; to just sweep it under the rug and forget about it. She doesn’t want to be that person that thinks this isn’t a big deal, that it’s collateral damage of the work she does. But Beth knows that somewhere, Rio is right—just like the cut on her finger, something is always going to rip this wound open. She can’t pretend that something like Warez, or the man she killed, or the people at the motel won’t happen again. She’s not naïve; she knows what she signed up for.

All she can do is accept that this is how it is, that the wound will reopen from time to time, that those ghosts will sit on her chest—but that one day while it won’t go away, it’ll be bearable.

“Is that what you do?” She asks and Rio smiles, very briefly, before something passes over his face and its gone almost as quickly as it appears.

He pulls the container of strawberries closer to the edge of the counter, thumbing over the plastic. “Throw these away, yeah? Stop holdin’ onto rotten things.”

Beth chews on her lower lip, listening to him leave the kitchen and leave out the back door before she pulls out the trash can and dumps them with a solid and final _thump._

\--

The meeting is at Boland Motors which, in theory, should make her feel more comfortable but the longer Beth sits in her office chair while the clock crawls past nine fifty-five the more uneasy she becomes. She feels like it’s the echoing silence is putting her on edge because no one for the meeting is here yet and Beth’s last employee left a few hours ago.

She wants to text Rio to ask him where he is, but she’s aware that’d be ridiculous and she steels herself that regardless of whether he shows up late or not at all that she can handle this on her own. Even though he assured her that Carlita wouldn’t come, she can’t stop thinking about her bursting through the doors, wandering into her office with a gun in her face. She can still picture the warehouse in her mind’s eye, the slow smile on her beautiful face, her hands touching Rio’s chest—

Beth closes one of the black books she has on her desk and shakes those thoughts out of her head; yeah, she’s not about to go there tonight.

A sound of a door opening grabs her attention and Rio wanders through her office doorframe, his mouth opening like he’s about to tell her why he’s cutting it so close to their meeting time with Veto. A nervous ball of energy builds in her chest and suddenly she’s talking before he can get any words out,

“You’re later than you said you were going to be, which is fifteen minutes by the way,” Beth stands from her desk, picking up her black book and holding it to her chest like a shield. “I’m never late and if I was, I’d never hear the end of it from you. _Meeting times matter, ma,”_ She realizes that she’s mocking him, her voice dipping slightly deeper and curling around the nickname he always seems to use so fondly.

But Rio doesn’t respond, amusement pulling at the end of his mouth as he so very slowly sets a to-go cup of coffee on her desk.

Beth blinks at it, red instantly painting over her face like a brush touched her cheekbones. “Oh.”

Rio licks his lips, leaning back against her desk and crossing his arms over his chest, “Yeah, I thought you might need it with the not sleeping.” He then goes to pick it up again, “Though if you don’t want it cause I was late and as you said, ‘meetin’ times matter, ma’…”

God, she’s never wanted anything more than to hide under her desk. She snags the cup before he can, putting the book down in its spot and smiling against the rim of the lid as she takes a sip. It’s still hot, just as she likes it, little bit of cinnamon and cream. Rio smiles back at her, a soft, warm laugh leaving his lips as he shakes his head.

He’s dressed in a light wash pair of jeans tonight, something she’s not used to seeing him in, his hoodie hanging loosely on his shoulders over a black t-shirt. She wishes she would have brought a change of clothes just to be more comfortable—in theory this meeting shouldn’t last very long, but after being in a red, long sleeved dress for the workday, all she wants is to pull a pair of leggings on.

The door to Boland Motors open and close with a soft sound and she lets out a soft sigh in an attempt to uncoil the tension trying to wrap around her spine. She hands Rio the cup of coffee, which he takes and pops the lid off, swallowing a small sip. Beth watches the doorway and whoever she expects to see walk through it is not who graces them with his presence.

She thought Veto would look like a version of Warez, for some reason, tall and muscled and an annoyed anger so clear on his face that tells her he would rather be anywhere than in a meeting with them. But Veto? Veto’s in a neatly pressed black suit with a soft blue tie and he _smiles_ when his eyes fall upon Beth.

He reaches a hand out for her to shake and Beth’s taken back by the thought that he’s actually _handsome,_ tall with soft, tan skin, scruff along his jawline and dark hair that only brings out the blue of his eyes.

He’s followed into her office by muscle that she doesn’t recognize from the warehouse, his hand cool and firm like unmolded clay before he nods his head at Rio.

“Mrs. Boland.” Veto smiles, his voice is attractively raspy as if he’s on the cusp of smoking too many cigars in his life, “What you’ve done with the dealership is smart; I’ve seen your advertisements on TV.”

“Oh,” She’s unsure of what to say for a moment because she hadn’t pictured the conversation swinging this way at all. With a woman like Carlita working for him, she just expected that this meeting would be slightly less chaotic than the last.  

She glances at Rio, almost if she’s trying to pull words off his skin before he nods his head at her, fingers brushing as he hands her back the coffee cup.

“Thank you,” Beth takes a sip of her drink, letting the hot liquid rush soothingly down her throat, “Sales went up three percent in the last month. Cars move in and out of the lot pretty quickly, so it’s easy to rotate the cars from the backlot.”

Veto hums, glancing out the main window in her office onto the display floor. “And what inspired this change so quickly, Mrs. Boland? Wasn’t too long ago that I was seeing a different set of commercials,” He scrunches his nose. “Something about pigs flying?”

Rio huffs out a soft breath beside her and when she looks over to him he’s rolling his eyes to the ceiling. She can’t help but smile, just a little, because that feels _forever_ ago. The question feels so weighted even though she’s pretty sure she’s digging too much past the surface—what inspired the change? A lot of things.

Mostly Beth deciding that she wasn’t going to rely on Dean for anything; not anymore.

“You can call me Beth,” She corrects gently before shrugging her one shoulder. “And honestly? I just really dislike my ex-husband.”

Her statement settles in the room for a moment, her hands squeezing the soft material of her coffee cup before Veto _laughs._ It’s something light and entertained and it takes her a moment to realize that he’s _enjoying_ this, the conversation with her, his eyes watching her in a way that reminds her too much of Rio.

“Honesty,” He takes a step towards her, “How refreshing.”

Her eyes trace Veto’s for a moment, picking up the softest of yellows in his eyes buried underneath all that blue—like the sun reflecting on an ocean wave. He smiles at her, sticking his hands in his pockets and he’s about to say something else when Rio very purposely clears his throat.

He leans up for the desk, pulling his sweatshirt sleeves above his elbows. Something has changed about his expression; there’s an urgency in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“Carlita mentioned you got concerns about the backlot.”

Beth straightens a little against her desk, the edge of the wood digging into her lower back as Rio brings up Carlita. The backlot? He never mentioned that, and not only that, he never told her that he had spoken to her since the warehouse. Something cold slithers down her sternum and hits her stomach like a brick falling into her gut.

Has he seen her? Met with her to discuss details before this meeting? She glances a down at the coffee in her hands—was it at a café? Is that why he showed up with this? Beth can feel herself spiraling into sets of questions she doesn’t want answered and feels them wrap around her like a corset—she doesn’t want to go there. They’ve been so _good_ lately; everything has felt so balanced. She can’t consider the idea that it somehow hasn’t been genuine.

Veto sighs, his eyes finally falling to Rio as he says, “I walked through your backlot before I came in and was disappointed to only see three cars. The lot itself seems like it can hold much more than that.”

He’s not wrong—the lot can hold many more than three, probably twelve if they pushed it. Sometimes she feels like it’ll draw attention even though it _is_ a car dealership. It’s just…the cars Rio gets aren’t near the right years or models that she’s selling in the front. It’s almost too obvious that those cars don’t belong.

“Tell me, why do you need me if you're barely moving merchandise?”

Beth swallows; can feel the tension shift in the room and thicken up like she’s breathing in cotton. Distantly, she knows this line of questioning isn’t good. Veto is second guessing their work and she can _feel_ Rio bristle next to her as their reputation is taken into consideration.

The thing is, Veto isn’t exactly wrong—they just didn’t anticipate him asking about this. Rio’s been having trouble on the other end of their business, where they get the cars from, from who’s packing the drugs into the airbags. The lot isn’t full because their supply has been slow going.

She wants to speak up, wants to explain and somehow blame it on the fact that she doesn’t want to make waves—the FBI hasn’t exactly been _quiet_ on its interest in her and her dealership but mentioning that will just do the opposite. The last thing she wants is for this thing to end in gunfire…and for some reason she worries that Veto might be able to read her like Rio can, know she’s lying by the quirk in the corner of her lips.

“How many cars we have out right now is irrelevant for what we're askin you for.” Rio states, crossing his arms over his chest.

Veto sighs, almost as if he’s bored. He then slowly takes a gun out of his jacket pocket, flipping the safety off. Beth swallows, setting her coffee down on her desk. To Rio's credit, he doesn't move, remains unchanging and disinterested as he usually does. The muscles in his jaw are working though, she can see them as he stares a hole directly through Veto's chest.

“I don’t do short-term business.” Veto says, slowly as if he’s had this conversation with Rio before. He tips his gun forward, brushing the barrel against Rio’s chest before pressing, _hard._ “I'm an investor. If I store your cars, it has to be worth my time…and based off your backlot, I’d say I’m wasting it.”

Rio makes the softest noise of discomfort, nearly baring his teeth at Veto and Beth feels panic surge quickly in her chest. This can’t end well; all she can see is _red_ in the corners of her eyes, worries that all that blood she’s been having nightmares about is suddenly an omen. Rio’s not going to back down, he’s got too much pride for that because regardless of the fact that someone in his business isn’t pulling their weight, he’d rather act like nothing is wrong.

She believes he’ll fix it, that they’ll get back into moving cars more quickly and consistently but that doesn’t change that Veto is asking about it _now_ with a gun pressed against his chest.

She doesn’t know the other well but if Carlita and the last meeting is any indication, he’ll pull the trigger just because Rio won’t buckle.

A breath gets stuck in her lungs, heartbeat nearly exploding in her veins as a choked noise leaves her lips, “That’s on me.”

Veto’s eyes snap to her but he remains unmoving, cool gaze almost so intense it’s like she’s being wrapped up in a blizzard. She clears her throat and waits, unsure if Veto will let her continue.

He says nothing but the barrel of the gun lifts ever so slightly from Rio’s chest and she takes that as her green light to spin the web, “Rio wanted more cars, he wanted to fill the lot and was frustrated with me that we weren’t.”

“Elizabeth.” Rio says, short and clipped; a warning.

Veto pulls his gun back, his attention completely on her now as he puts the safety back on, “Let her speak,” He straightens his back a little, “I like a woman who can own up to her mistakes.”

“I was too worried about my dealership’s reputation so finding a better place to store the cars was our next choice.” She swallows and holds his gaze, sees something there that she almost recognizes—and it pushes the next brazen statement out of her mouth, “And if you’re willing to throw away a deal over a small _parking_ issue then you’re not the impressive business man I’ve heard about.”

He watches her for a long moment like he’s trying to read her, eyes tracing the strands of her hair along her face. She thinks he might reach out, touch her, but he doesn’t. Instead he nods his head, putting his gun back into his suit jacket.

“Anything else?”

Beth glances at Rio, who’s pointedly not looking at her, his jaw tight as if someone’s pulled a rubber band taut.

“Carlita’s man threatened to shoot me in the neck; I doubled payment when I shouldn’t have.”

Veto huffs out a soft laugh and shakes his head, “Distasteful,” He agrees, “But she gets the job done.” He does reach out this time, brushing hair off her neck. She grinds her heels into the ground so she doesn’t move. “I admire your attempts of negotiation, but I won’t be changing your updated payment.”

He pulls back from them, motioning to the muscle he’s come with the leave—maybe bring the car around? She lets out a breath she doesn’t realize she’d been holding, pausing in the doorway to look back at her.

“I will however give you an extra month to get your dealership in order, Beth.” He holds her gaze with a soft smile. “Until then.” He nods his head at them, disappearing out of her office.

Beth runs a hand over her face, Rio shifting beside her as he steps back from the desk. His silence should tell her something, but honestly? there’s a soft set of thrills working their way down her spine from adrenaline. She successfully turned a meeting around, one that hadn’t been working in their favor—and Veto? he almost seemed like he respected her. He allowed her to speak her mind and while he didn’t agree, he gave them another month to get the dealership back on track. That was more than enough time for Rio to figure out their car problem.

Rio’s standing by the couch, hovering almost like he’s not sure whether he wants to leave or not and bites the inside of his cheek which tells her he’s _seriously_ holding back his temper.

“I don't know why you're actin' like we accomplished anything.”

She stares at him a moment, her mouth nearly opening and closing because, “Oh come on, it could have gone worse.” She doesn’t understand why he’s angry about this, “I handled it.”

Rio scoffs, shaking his head as he turns to look away from her, sticking his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. She swallows, trying to figure him out too quickly, base emotions just sticking out in her mind like pins.

“You just don’t like that he was talking to me like I actually knew what I was doing. _Let me do the talkin’.”_ She mocks him again, throwing his words back in his face because he _always_ tries to dominate meetings. Beth’s observed him in the past, she’s learned a lot from him—but she also feels comfortable to talk about their work. She’s done it before and she keeps getting better as meetings go on.

He has to trust her.

Rio turns and gives her a look, distracted for a moment because, “I don’t sound like that,” His eyes travel over her form, drawing his upper lip between his teeth as he considers something before he says it, “I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

Something hot bubbles underneath her skin because _that’s_ what he got out of a meeting like that? That’s really what he’s going to say to her?

“Don’t.” She says quickly.

Sometimes she worries that these feelings between them, complicated as they are, are nothing but distractions. That he _uses_ them to throw her off balance, to warp their working relationship. Beth struggles with the fact that she feels like she knows him, so intricately like the back of her own hand—and yet—

Carlita’s words echo in her head about how she doesn’t know him at all, how she’s barely scratching the surface, that somehow he’s only letting her see what she wants to see.

How can they be so much together, yet, nothing at all at the same time?

“Don’t what?” He asks, voice calm and somehow detached.

“You’re going to try and say stuff like that when you’ve been having meetings with Carlita behind my back?”

He scoffs out a sound that makes her want to hit him, his eyes nearly rolling to the ceiling as annoyance pinches his face. “It wasn't like that. I didn't meet her, she called me.”

Beth starts fiddling with stuff on her desk, just something to keep her hands busy while she talks, “Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Cause I don’t have to.” He all but snaps as she throws away the coffee that’s grown cold. She pauses, his tone echoing in her ears before she moves to tuck away the book of their paperwork in her desk she was working through when he showed up.

Rio closes his eyes a moment, letting out a long sigh as he amends what he’s said, unbridled frustration reigning itself in as he runs a hand over his face.

He tries again and he’s more patient this time, which she considers progress. There was a time when he wouldn’t explain his reasoning to her, “She called to fuck with me; it wasn’t even five minutes long. I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter.”

Beth swallows words down her throat, things she shouldn’t say: _she’s got a hold on you, she wants you, she misses you_ and looks over her shoulder at him. His eyes are open, slightly wild, tracing her form in that red dress. She feels her cheeks tint just a little, blush traveling down her neck. She’s overreacting, she knows this—but her concerns are real and they’re not going to go away as long as they’re working with Veto, not with Carlita so close to their business.

She sighs and runs a hand through her hair, letting her fingers rest at the bottom of her neck a moment.

And then Rio does what he does best, which is flip a conversation right on top of its head. “So that was you handlin’ it?” He asks, digging in-between her insecurities and burrowing there; he sounds unconvinced.

Beth scoffs out a sound and _no,_ that’s not fair, she _did_ handle it. “I’d say the fact that you’re not bleeding on my office carpet is a yes.”

Rio takes another step closer, almost in her space, can nearly feel the heat of his body from the proximity. It’s intoxicating in a way she absolutely _hates._ “I’ve owned up to the car backups; I don’t need you to protect me.”

He’s said this to her before and each time it leaves his mouth, the more she doesn’t believe him. It’s as one-sided as it feels, he _learns_ from her just as she learns from him. He may not think he needs her—but he does; they need each other and they want to protect one another regardless of how they each tell the other not to.

She’s not going to apologize; she hopes that’s not what he’s looking for, “I believe the words you want are ‘thank you’.”

He smirks and shakes his head, closing the distance of the space between them. He towers over her, his breath skittering against her hairline as he speaks, “For what? Puttin’ yourself and possibly your family in danger by stickin’ up to Veto?” He touches her chin and she smacks his hand away, amusement tugging at the ends of his mouth at the action.

“Nah, I’m not thankin’ you for that.”

Beth looks up at him, trying to study him as he so often does her. Tries to peel back his layers, read between his lines as she dives into his eyes. She swallows after a moment, chewing on her lower lip and hates that it almost sounds unsure to say, “You'd do it for me.”

Because he would, wouldn’t he?

He lets out a slow breath, this time touching her face because she doesn’t push him away. He cups her jawline, thumb brushing over her cheek, two fingers drawing her hair away from her eyes like a curtain.

“That’s different.”

She shakes her head. “No, it’s not.”

“I’ve been doin’ this a lot longer than you have; I know the risks.”

Beth sets her hands on his chest, playing with the zipper of his hoodie between her fingers. She can feel his lungs expand beneath her hands, his chin dipping a little to watch her.

“And I don’t?” She presses.

Rio’s eyes meet her own, his hand falling from her face as he holds her gaze. She slips her hands underneath his hoodie, slipping it away from his shoulders, the fabric tumbling to the ground with a soft _whoosh._ His one palm splays along her waist, thumb pressing into her hip bone, creating small patterned circles as his body puzzle pieces against her own.

He’s reevaluating her, she can tell by his gaze, taking her apart and putting her back together—looking at her from a new light. Beth shivers a little under the welcomed scrutiny because she _does_ know the risks, has been working through them since day one with him, sometimes even on her own. He’s looking at her like he used to when he first met her, that there’s something _there_ that recognizes his kindred spirit.

His hands are suddenly more pressured on her waist and he lifts her swiftly so that she’s sitting on the edge of her desk. Her dress gets caught around her thighs a little but she shifts, opening her legs slightly to accommodate his body as he steps towards her.

“I think you’ve only scratched the surface.”

The phrasing digs deep between her bones, Carlita’s taunting ringing in her head. She tips her chin a little because as much as she hates to admit it, Rio’s right. As much as she knows and as many doors she’s opened, there has to be a thousand others that are still locked tight with how much she _doesn’t._

“You can’t just admit you’re sorry, hmm?” She says, mostly kidding, her mouth pulling up into an amused smile as Rio shakes his head.

“I’m rarely sorry, ma.”

Beth rolls her eyes and pushes on his chest; it’s playful and light and all it does is make him take a step closer, his arms slipping around her back. It feels _so good_ to be in his arms.

“Alright, fine, then you can just tell me how impressed you were back there when I was talking to Veto.” She shrugs.

Now Rio laughs, something warm and sudden that tips his head back a little to expose his throat. Her eyes dance along the bird on his neck, “I’m not impressed with your lyin’ ass.”

“Admit it,” She challenges, leaning forward and up so that her mouth brushes along the right side of the feathers, his pulse jumping against her lips. “You thought I was great at thinking on my feet.”

Rio hums a little and she presses a kiss to the top of the wingspan, moving to map out another on the left side. He looks down at her, his lips grazing the bridge of her nose. “Is this how you plan on convincin’ me?”

Beth licks her lips and slips a hand down between their bodies, cupping his cock through the outside of his jeans. His mouth opens a little, nips her bottom lip between his teeth before a soft moan follows.

“Feels like I won’t have to do much convincing.” She whispers.

Rio clasps her face with his hand and kisses her, fast and a little dirty, insistent as he pushes her back onto the desk. His body presses into hers, his hand messily hiking up her dress as she strokes him through the material of his pants. It’s uneven and getting a little desperate, fingers pulling and yanking and mouths moving too fast as they kiss that it’s hard to breathe.

Beth lets out a shuddered moan when he manages to reach her underwear under her dress, his fingers warm and rough against her hip as he yanks them down. The fabric nearly rips, she can hear it; too much friction and force. Her arms wrap around his shoulders as he lifts her closer, pleasure crashing over her like a wave as he slides inside her.

They pause like that, just for a moment, getting used to one another—enjoying the feeling of coming together only to fall apart. Rio curls his fingers around the back of her neck, Beth’s lips once again falling to the bird against his throat. She presses a kiss there, and like a flip being switched, he begins to move.

The buildup is quick and familiar and it doesn’t take either of them long to lose it. Beth doesn’t try to hold back; she gives into every feeling, every rush of pleasure, of heat crawling down between her legs and burrowing like a star about to burst. It’s all encompassing as her breathing quickens, her fingers digging into Rio’s back and yanking at his shirt, his hips sliding against her own. His arm accidently knocks stuff off her desk, but she could care less as her back arches when she cums—taking Rio with her.

He places hot, open mouthed kisses against her shoulder before he pulls back and regardless of how much Beth just wants to lay there, panting, she sits up because her desk really is the _worst_ place to have sex. She pulls her dress down a little, watching him adjust his pants before leaning down to clean up the stuff he’s knocked down.

She pulls her hair back into a messy bun and he hands her a few folders of paperwork, fingers grabbing onto her wrist a moment so that she pauses to look up at him.

“The next meetin’ we have with Veto; I want you to lead it.”

Beth stares at him, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it never does. He picks up his hoodie from the floor, slipping it over his shoulders and zipping it up. Excitement shoots up from her stomach, clutching onto her ribcage and she can’t help but smile, trying not to let it take up her whole face.

“Really? Why?”

Rio licks his lips, pausing—but he doesn’t have to say anything.

She laughs, “Because I _impressed you.”_

He smirks, quickly brushing his fingers through the side of her hair before tapping the tip of her nose. “Don't let it go to your head, ma.”

Beth shakes her head as she watches him head for the door of her office, Rio pausing in the doorframe as she grabs her coat off the back of her desk chair. He’s considering something, chewing on a half-formed thought that he’s not sure whether he wants to say or not. She lets him take his time, pulling her coat around herself and tying it at her waist.

“Marcus wants to know when the next time you’re comin’ to make waffles.”

She’s not sure why she feels like she has to hold her breath before answering, almost like his statement will disappear into the air if she replies too quickly. She picks up her purse from behind her desk and puts the strap over her shoulder.

“Tell him…Friday? But only if I can make my cinnamon swirl ones.”

Rio sucks in a breath between his teeth, shaking his head as he leans against the doorjamb. “Might be a hard sell.”

She smiles, “Marcus isn’t immune to my charms, I can talk him into it. Besides, they taste like cinnamon rolls in waffle form.”

“And what? You don’t gotta convince me?” He asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Like father, like son—you’re not immune to my charms either.”

Rio rolls his eyes and waits for her to pass him through the doorway, Beth pausing to turn off her office lights and close her door. “Think as long as you don’t bring moldy strawberries, I’m sold.”

She huffs out a small sound and goes to push him, fingers barely brushing his ribs before he takes advantage of the proximity and draws her into his side, his arm wrapping around her shoulders. She smiles and leans into it, his lips brushing along her temple as they walk out of dealership.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm starting a brio playlist over at my tumblr if you want to keep checking in :) https://blainesebastian.tumblr.com/tagged/pwirb-playlist


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